Caller: Unknown
by MidnightBloom15
Summary: He was unfortunately considered insane. Fortunately, he finds a phone. Why is that important, you ask? Well, sometimes, it does happen when, calling anonymously, you find comfort and love in that little voice you've called one random day.


Agape

~Chapter 1~

Hi there, people! This is one of my first written ideas ever since it kind of happened to me in real life. Considering that, I soooo wanted to share it with you, guys, that I came to sart this very story and see your reaction. Hope you'll enjoy it! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto... Damnit...

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><p>White – the colour of purity, innocence, itself representing hope, optimism, the chance of a new start. It's the colour of truth and faith, making every soul feel blessed, protected in its presence, eventhough its mostly at an unconscious level, one imposed, influenced by the others. Wandering eyes surveyed the plain surface of the ceiling, taking in its multiple cracks that broke the spell of a more so sanitary feeling.<p>

He looked around, observing the empty damp walls painted in the same as not only the ceiling, but as every other object in the room … or more like the only object in the room. The bed, placed in the far corner under the window, was the exact opposite definition of coziness: the old, hard mattress that made you cringe in pain whenever you got up from it, the pillow, made more from bricks than from actual puff or from, at least, a material that bend under pressure, and, of course, the sheets - rough, itchy and thin, which, together with the standard grey bed cover, kept you nice and frozen during those friendly winter nights. Everything was a bright sickening white, so bright that it would hurt one's eyes if one stared intently at it.

Then why wasn't he feeling at peace? Why didn't he himself feel blessed and protected when everything around him was painted in that holy colour? He gave up trying to find an answer to that question long ago. Many questions that had found their way into his mind were left unsettled, but some of them just couldn't be forgotten, as in how did he got in such a place, what did he do to deserve all that and, the most important one, why couldn't he remember anything? His only memories consisted of some flashy, undistinguishable images that crossed his mind whenever he tried recalling a glimpse of his past, but although he'd been in that place since he could actually remember, he knew there was something else before it, something he dared, in his frequent emotional breakdowns, to call "home".

In a quiet, slow pace, he started walking around the room, as it was the only thing he could do except getting lost in his thoughts and emotions ( which he had no intention in doing). He stopped next to the door, staring intently at a faint shadow on the wall, an old mark covered with paint not long ago. There used to be a sink back in the first days of his so called madness, but it indeed ended as one found in a crazy man's room. He shattered it into pieces after a while as the drops falling from the broken faucet filled the room with its rhythmic, metallic sound, one that drove him insane whenever left alone in that dungeon they called bedroom. Slowly switching his gaze to the door screen, he saw his own reflection staring back at him: fair skin, together with soft, angular features made his appearance disappear in the sickly whitened scenery that he himself was part of. Only his onyx eyes and pitch black locks that shone in the dim light in a somewhat bluish matter would stand out into that literal nothingness, slightly scraping the cruel numbness in everything around him. Looking out the window, which resembled an eye patch more than anything else, he counted the hours by the sun's position and realized there wasn't much time left until lunch. It wasn't like he enjoyed having it; the only thing that he was waiting for was to get out of that place, at least for a while…

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><p>He was now sitting motionless on the side of his bed, enhancing his hearing bit by bit to see if he caught any ruckus made by the janitor's approach. He didn't have to wait too long to pick up the unmistakable sound of keys cautiously opening the doors' locks and the screeching sound of them opening. The ones imprisoned got out and sat quietly in row, habit which he himself followed thoroughly when his door opened to the main corridor. He stepped in line with the others, glancing towards them as to see if they were any different from last time. His answer came in an instance as he noticed the meek, quiet human beings that sat beside him, and he wasn't allowed to be any different from them.<p>

The last time he stood up in thy humble crowd of puppets, he was locked for three days with no food or water, and he wasn't going to experience that again even though inside he screamed like there was no tomorrow. But he kept his face as emotionless as always, letting only a bit of his anger and defiance slip through his slightly squinted eyes. The janitor paced heavily in front of them, stopping from time to time in front of some unlucky foe. Don't get it wrong, none of this innocent – looking people were what they seemed to be. He'd heard some terrible stories that some of them did during those frightening mental breakdowns that individuals like them had almost on a regular basis. The only reason they were even listening to what they were told at that moment was out of utter fear as to what might happen to them if they weren't 'good boys'. He'd had many sleepless nights as he was kept awake by terrifying screams and pitiful cries often heard from the "Punishment Room". He could see every one of them cringe as they were passing the said chamber on their way to the cafeteria, praying not to ever have to enter it again.

His mind wandered aimlessly as he was instinctually turning the right path, having done it for hundreds of times already. The line suddenly stopped, its end having reached the doors leading to the dining room. Then, as every day happened, the two people standing by the doors called them one by one, letting them go inside as they answered.

"Shikido Hanare", the guard called to be answered by the man in front of him.

"Kito Shikamura", its voice rang. He let thy foe pass towards the tables, and continued: "Uchiha Sasuke".

"Present".

That's it for this chapter! If you like the idea and you want me to continue it, do express your opinion, my friend! Hope you'll have a nice day! :D


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